


Shrine

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gen or Pre-Het, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Data answers the door, and Deanna comes in.





	Shrine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Data sets Spot on the ground for the third time in a row, and the door chimes before can stop her from leaping back onto his desk. He takes her under his arm as he goes to answer it, this time setting her down in the living area, where she predictably loses interest in his console and wanders off towards the bedroom instead.

Data waits for the door to slide open, then adopts a smile at who he sees on the other side. Deanna Troi smiles wider at him, the sort that ‘touches her eyes,’ as classical poets often said. In her turquoise dress with her dark hair spilling down along her half-bare shoulders, it’s obvious why so many of the crew find her exceedingly attractive: she meets all the typical beauty standards logged in Data’s positronic brain. At this late hour in their shift rotation, he can’t help but wonder why she’s here, and a particular program he’s been expanding on presents itself as a possibility. Then he runs a series of probability subroutines and determines it highly unlikely; Deanna Troi should know better than anyone that he isn’t yet a suitable romantic partner.

When she says nothing, Data greets, “Counselor,” and she sighs in such a way that her slender shoulders dip, brows drawing together.

“Deanna, please,” she corrects before straightening and explaining pointedly, “I’m off duty, and I intend to stay that way.”

Data nods his acceptance and searches for the correct follow up, adding, “Would you like to come in?”

She chirps, “I thought you’d never ask.” The moment he steps aside to allow it, she slips right around him, while he puzzles over her statement—the invitation seems logical enough, and he can’t imagine why she would expect him to eternally withhold it.

Deanna takes a moment to look about his quarters, though they’re no different than the last time she was here to discuss a now classified crewmember. Drifting towards a geometric glass sculpture, Deanna glides her lithe fingers along its edge, then turns towards his couch. As she makes her way there, Data follows and asks, “Is there something I can do for you, Deanna?” There’s a split second where he _almost_ calls her counselor despite the logged correction. He makes a mental note to run a self-diagnostic after her departure. Geordi would dismiss it as merely a force of habit, but in Data’s case, such issues should be easily solved.

Oblivious to the inner workings of Data’s mind, Deanna takes her seat on the plush cushions. She takes a moment to adjust herself in place, likely ‘getting comfortable,’ and then peers up at him through her thick lashes. He associates her soft smile with a kind connotation, though when he tries to trace the root of the description, he can’t find any definite details. Dark eyes focused on his, she asks, “Would you mind if I just... laid on you for a while?”

Data cocks his head to the side, meaning to express his confusion. The earlier program comes to mind, and he asks, “Do you wish to engage in a sexual relationship?”

Her smile broadens into a small chuckle, and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it’ll come to that.” Data nods his head neutrally. A part of his programming recognizes the missed opportunity for personal growth, but the rest sees the added complication of another ‘relationship’ when his last one may have inadvertently harmed a crewmember he could never quite fulfill. Deanna tells him in a quiet voice, “I just want... company, I suppose. And at the same time, I want a break from it all. You can’t know how _exhausting_ it is to feel everyone’s emotions all the time. I felt I needed some peace, without being lonely, and then I remembered that sometimes the most peaceful person to be around is the one who’s never bombarded me with a single feeling.”

Data concludes, “Me.”

“You,” Deanna confirms. She pauses, then reaches out a hand and adds, “Think of it as a lesson in human companionship.”

Data moves towards her outstretched hand and answers, “Very well, although I would have done so regardless, solely to aid you.” He takes a seat beside her, then fidgets the way he saw her do, though he detects no noticeable changes in pressure values between himself and the couch. 

When Data’s settled into place, Deanna tilts towards him, then leans her head against his shoulder. Her body turns to face him, slumping down to a lax position. Data imagines that if his skin could retain such sensations, her hair would be tickling his cheek.

As it is, he feels no such reactions. He can register the warmth of her body, the press of her weight, even the gentle ebb and flow of her breath. But it doesn’t thrill him like his research claims. He wonders idly if his own experience is enough. 

He could fetch a PADD and work where he is, resume his earlier report while rendering assistance to a fellow officer.

Instead, he tilts his head against hers and allows his neural pathways down the existential trail of what exactly is ‘enough.’


End file.
